


Auctions of the Past

by cero_ate



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, PTSD, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:25:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cero_ate/pseuds/cero_ate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Steve attend a storage auction and Steve finds more than he expected. Contains microscopic crossover. Kudos if you spot it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auctions of the Past

“Just trust me.” Somehow those were some of the most dangerous words Clint had ever uttered. Right up there with “trust me, this arrow totally will work” or “the building really isn’t that high Why did Steve always find best friends who fell from things?

Steve suppressed his momentary flash of pain with slowly growing practice. He still missed him so much. But this was now and that was then. He’d never move forward if he kept looking back, and right now, to be the man they needed him to be, he needed to move forward. He’d had a year of looking back, and that hadn’t accomplished anything. He didn’t really like that he’d barely accomplished more than getting used to technology.

“Steve, hey! Old man!” Clint teased, kindly though. He was good at that. Clint was a good people reader, he was good at poking just right. Not cattle prodding, like some billionaire playboy philanthropists, but he genuinely had a good heart. Steve agreed with Loki about that.

“Right.” Clint nodded. “And hopefully we find you some old shit.” Clint hesitated between wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle once he was on the bike and grabbing the hand grips. Seeing the hesitation, Steve offered to let Clint drive.

Steve himself had no problem wrapping his arms around Clint’s middle so they didn’t fall off. Plus, it made it easier to grab his shield in a hurry if he needed to. His artist portfolio was on his back, holding his shield in it. He liked this method he’d come to. It left them protected without getting swamped.

The ride there was easy enough. Steve was starting to re-remember the curses he’d heard in his youth in Brooklyn. So many different variations. People really had just gotten more creative as time went on. It was fun. He wondered if his teammates knew how many of them he understood. At least Tony had explained all the current euphemisms for sex. No more Fondue mistakes until new ones he hadn’t heard of came up, which happened all the time, if the old days were any indication.

They joined with the auction crew, watching the bald guy and the old lady work the crowd. Steve had to hand it to them, they worked the crowd well, but Steve knew better than to listen to anyone except for himself, or Clint.

Six storage units in, Clint was obviously starting to get bored. It was nothing like what they’d seen on TV. Steve was too; he’d do one or two more today. On the eighth though, that was a gold- mine of what he wanted. Quilts, some old furniture, a really nice chest of drawers, and some stuff hidden by the quilts He wondered what was in there. He was also amused at the fact there was a poster of Howard in the back of the unit. It was like Howard was smiling down at them from wherever he was. Steve would have to get that story, but not from Tony. Tony got edgy about that kind of thing. Maybe Pepper or Tony’s best friend Rhodey would know?

The auction was long and difficult. Steve won, but just barely. It was a bit more than he’d intended to spend, but he’d gotten into the auction spirit. Winning it was a lot of fun. Steve did like to win, after all.

Clint had laughed at him, even as he joined him in celebrating and starting to go through the room. It looked like it had most of what Steve was hoping to get out of this, with a couple of nice chairs and a nice bedstead and chest of drawers. While he went through the boxes, Clint rolled up the quilts that looked handmade and started going through the drawers.

“Steve,” Clint said, a weird tone to his voice. Steve looked up, craning around to do a threat assessment. He walked, well, slid and scuttled over. He couldn’t walk like he used to be able to in his old body. More bulk meant he was harder to fit around things. He still was uncomfortable in this skin. It was why he didn’t have many mirrors in his own apartment in Brooklyn and tried to cover the ones at the apartment in Avengers Tower. It made him uncomfortable, looking at a man he didn’t recognize and knowing it was himself.

“What?” Steve stopped beside him and looked down. It looked like a metal lunchbox of him, with cards in there Old looking cards, in plastic sleeves, like the ones Coulson used to have before…well before he and Tony had gone at it like two alpha males, locking horns. Steve still felt guilty that Coulson’s cards had been sacrificed for their teamwork. He should have been able to work with Tony without having that cattle prod. Just because Tony wasn’t his father and didn’t live up to who Steve thought he ought to be didn’t mean Steve had to be as blunt with Tony in all the ways he was failing. He was more mature than that. “We should give them to Phil.”

Clint tilted the box a little and a Bucky one slid into view. Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Bucky…God Buck. He tried to take a deep breath and it got caught. Clint’s hand on his shoulder was warm, drawing him back to the present as Clint helped him breathe through it.

“They did a limited run, of the Howling Commandoes, at the end of the war,” Clint’s voice softly explained, breaking through the fog. “All of them, dead and alive. This must be his card.”

Steve watched Clint study it, as he studied it himself. Fuck. Bucky…it hit him all over again how much he missed him, how much he wished, no, he needed him. It mostly was a dull ache now, like a fading bruise. But every once in a while he bumped it, and it just hurt and hurt and hurt.

“He’s hot,” Clint finally said. His hand hadn’t moved from Steve’s shoulders and Steve wasn’t going to mention it if Clint wasn’t. It felt…good to be touched, to have someone comfort him for a little bit,

rather than having to be Captain America. It almost felt like he was Steve Rogers again. He’d missed that feeling almost more than he could realize until just this moment. He wondered if Clint would have followed that kid from Brooklyn who didn’t know when to back down too, rather than Captain America. He almost thought Clint might.

“Want to hear about him?” Steve offered.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Clint said, squeezing Steve’s shoulder as they moved to sit in the chairs.


End file.
